


a taste of Lucille

by retorica



Series: The Reader is the Monster [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fetish, Gore, Icky, Object Fixation, Oral Fixation, sort of oral sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 08:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13454814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retorica/pseuds/retorica
Summary: Ever since you were a baby, you liked to put things in your mouth.





	a taste of Lucille

**Author's Note:**

> can i make this both arousing and terrifying? we shall see. (also, i'm not a big TWD watcher so if I got some things wrong, pls don't shoot me)

Ever since you were a baby, you liked to put things in your mouth. Now, that’s a normal stage for any infant and it can be carried through into early pubescence if you’re particularly eccentric. But for you, this strange oral fixation continued into adulthood, though you did your best to repress it. You drove your office colleagues crazy with the many pens and USB drives you stuck in your mouth. You smoked cigarettes for the sheer pleasure of sliding the thin sticks between your lips. Nicotine did nothing for you. And yes, you sometimes put dicks in your mouth though they had no good reason to be there. The guys always felt weird afterwards; they felt used, objectified. “I’m not just my dick,” they’d say and you’d nod guiltily. “It’s just this hang-up I have,” you’d explain.

But no one really took you to task for it. You were considered harmless and…quirky.

Then the world went to hell and many other people wanted to put _you_ in their mouth – namely to eat you.

So you concealed your odd habit for the sake of survival. There was no room for personality in this new reality, anyway. You were all runners and scavengers and - most of the times – fresh corpses. The essence of Man had been boiled down to essentials. You were all the same.

Except, that didn’t turn out to be true. When your small group got ambushed by Negan and his legion of Survivors, you distinguished yourself.

 

 

“Now, what do we got here…?” Negan asked no one in particular as he surveyed your group. “A sorry bunch of assholes, that’s what we got. And I call you assholes cuz you’ve been hunting on _my_ territory without license.”

Your group leader started to make apologies. He even had the temerity or foolishness to ask about this “license” and whether he could cut a deal with the man in the smooth leather jacket who looked like he had come off a movie set.

You were always a little surprised that some people managed to "do" post-apocalypse better than others.

Negan was not in the mood to cut deals. He wanted to make an example out of all of you.

He walked up to your group leader who was kneeling in front of him, along with everyone else.

“You wanna procure a license, my good man?” he winked. His face was permanently drawn in a lazy sort of leer. Like he was getting ready to chortle at any given moment.

“I –I do,” your leader said unwisely.

And that’s when Negan revealed “Lucille”.

As objects go, you’d had worse cravings in the past. One time, you stuck a used condom in your mouth so…a bloodied bat wrapped in barbed wire was not necessarily the bottom of the barrel, but it came pretty close.

Negan swung the bat like a pendulum in front of your leader’s face. It was a thing of beauty, and you hated the sudden, unbearable _lust_ you had for it. Your mouth salivated at the thought of taking its head between your lips and feeling the sharp twine of the barbed wire. Of course, that shit could kill you or give you an infection, but you felt you could handle it if you did it slowly, gently.

You looked down at the ground and grit your teeth hard. You were hungry for it and you hoped no one could tell. _What a fucking freak_ , they’d say.

“I’m sure we could – we could come to an agreement,” our leader continued on his fool’s errant.

“Hmmm, afraid I don’t like cock-heads,” Negan drawled thickly and he swung the bat twice, fast, with clinical precision.

The poor man’s skull caved in. Trickles of blood ran down his face. Negan swung again and again, bashing his head to a pulp. It was clear he had perfected his art. He did not hesitate once. He didn’t even give his victim time to scream in anguish. It was a terrifying, quiet affair. You were shaking in your boots and bile was rising in your throat. There might’ve been tears in the corner of your eyes, too. But the overarching sensation that kept you sane was  _want_. You wanted to grab that bat, you wanted to take it away from Negan, you wanted to treasure it and put it to good use. You wanted to put it in your mouth.

So when it came to be your turn, you were ready. Horribly ready.

Negan chuckled as he heard you sniffle.

“’s all right, doll. It’ll be over quick if you don’t piss me off. Now, be a good sport and look me in the eye.”

You raised your head and your eyes met the object of desire. Negan was inconsequential. The bat was everything. He noticed you staring intently.

“Lucille’s a _fine_ thing, ain’t she?” he asked, mistaking your focus for fear.

You nodded slowly, lips parting almost against your will.

He sized you up with mild disinterest.  The two women he’d found attractive or “wife-material” had been singled out from the group and taken away. You clearly didn’t fit the bill, so you’d probably be a pity kill.

Still, you wiped away the snot from your nose and the tears from your eyes and tried to strike a dignified pose. Your eyes latched onto your craving. The bat glinted red in the dimming sunlight.

Negan wriggled his shoulders in preparation for the deed. Shit, this was your last moment on Earth, or whatever was left of this doomed planet. Couldn’t you get a last wish?

So, you reached out with your shackled wrists, you reached out in a pleading gesture towards the bat.

Negan scrunched his eyebrows and smiled uncertainly. “Look at you, you really can’t fuckin’ wait, can you?”

_Oh, you don’t even know_ , you thought, licking your lips. If you were going to die, let it be on your own terms.

You crawled closer to him, dragging your knees and scraping your knee caps. You opened your mouth wide, begging him with your eyes to give you the bat. Your tied hands fluttered before you like broken wings. A bird demanding her worm.

Negan’s lips twitched and his eyes narrowed. He didn’t understand. He thought this was some kind of trap, some kind of play. He didn’t like cock-heads.

But you were not going to try anything funny. So you swallowed thickly and said, “Please…let me taste it.”

You hoped your demeanor was sincere. You hoped your voice didn’t waver.

“Please, before I die,” you repeated, squirming before him. “Let me have one taste.”

To say he was astonished would be putting it mildly. He was a man who dealt with emotions by piecemeal. This was an overload.

You opened your mouth wider and your tongue trembled expectantly.

The camp was entirely silent. You could hear everyone’s breathing. They were all waiting to see what Negan would do.

He didn’t disappoint you. Relief flooded through you as he lowered the bat until it was level with your mouth. It was a small gesture on his part, but you took advantage of it before he changed his mind.

You leaned forward and licked the first braid of barbed wire. It tasted divine. Your tongue lapped over the wooden head like it was an ice cream cone, savoring the grime and the blood. You pressed your lips over it and kissed it tenderly. You needed more. Gently, ever so gently, you placed half of the tip in your mouth. The wire pinched you, but it didn’t cut you yet. It was sweet torture. You tongue worked off each coil of wire, slipping deftly in between. You knew the sting would come, you knew you’d soon taste your own blood but _fuck it_ – this was heavenly and you moaned in delight.

“ _Jesus fucking Christ_ ,” a husky voice drawled above you.

Your eyes popped open. Through the haze of pleasure, you saw Negan staring down at you. His eyes were dark and burning with something low and feral. His nostrils flared. He was breathing rapidly. When you cast your eyes lower, you saw that he was visibly aroused.

Emboldened by his reaction (cuz hey, you got this fucking monster to submit to you momentarily), you returned your attention to the wooden tip and kissed it with tongue, relishing the abrasive feeling.

“Fucking shit…” he trailed off in awe, lowering the bat to give you more access. Your wrists were dangerously close to the grip and before you knew what was happening, your fingers wrapped around the bat and started stroking it tenderly. It was pure instinct. You were clumsy and often slipped and lost your bearings because you didn’t have the full freedom of your hands, but you clung to it and you caressed it, scraping your nails against the wooden surface in total abandon, making it yours.

Negan groaned, watching you possess his beloved bat. His erection throbbed. He wanted to fuck your filthy mouth and then kiss it. But he also wanted to break your teeth because you _were_ fucking his goddamn wife. The last vestige of her anyway.

He pulled the bat away from you abruptly, and you cut you lip and chin. Blood trickled down your throat. His eyes were unable to look away. They were latched on you with a ferocious glint.

“Well, fuck me,” he whistled, but his tone held no trace of his usual sleazy humor. “You’re somethin’ special.”

You licked off your own blood and lowered your head. “I’m ready now,” you said.

“ _Fuck_ no, darling. I’m not wasting a natural like you,” he said almost angrily. And he signaled to his men. “Get Miss VIP here cleaned up. I don't wanna see a scratch on her.”

They pulled you up on your feet. You didn’t quite believe you were going to live after all.

You stared at Lucille, your lover and your savior.

Negan gripped the bat possessively. His arousal was still plain to see. He still wanted to fuck you or kill you. Probably both. But you were alive for now, and maybe you’d have a chance to taste Lucille again.

Negan swallowed thickly. Shit, he was in trouble. 

You licked your lips and smiled.


End file.
